


Merry-Go-Round

by Bacchus



Series: Circus Arc [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Feelings, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gaara and Sasuke drink coffee, Gaara's a manipulative little bastard, Gaara's father is an absolute dick, Gaara's obtuse, Love Confessions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mind Games, Naruto and Kiba doesn't think things through, Naruto is Just Naruto, Neji's even worse, Other Confessions, Pretty rough sex, Protective Uchiha Itachi, Protective Uchiha Sasuke, Romance, Sequel/Prequel, Sex, lots of talking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-06 13:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13412574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bacchus/pseuds/Bacchus
Summary: Gaara never really planned to punch Hiro in the face in sixth grade -not that the bastard didn’t deserve it – and he certainly hadn’t planned to end up in therapy for it. Furthermore, no matter what Sasuke might say, hedoeshave a moral compass and, contrary to what people might believe, hedoesknow it’s ethically ambiguous to sleep with his therapist.He just doesn’t care.Sequel to Carousel.





	1. The Office of Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If I owned Naruto, do you really think it would’ve ended the way it did? *Drowns my sunken OTP-ships in a river of tears.*
> 
> A/N: So I caved in the end. Here it is: part 1 of 3 in the Prequel/Sequel of Carousel. This beast of a story is actually longer than its predecessor (despite me cutting out several scenes), so buckle up your seatbelts, because you’re in for a ride.  
> BEFORE you start to read, take note of a few important pieces of information:  
> 1\. This story will have a darker tone than the original. Mostly because the main character has a darker background and psyche. His life and mind just isn’t as carefree as dear little Sasuke’s.  
> 2\. And most **IMPORTANTLY** this story will be jumping around in time quite friskily. I’m sorry if it causes confusion –I didn’t do it on purpose it just wrote itself that way. Each jump is headlined by the season/date and year. The timespan ranges between autumn 2010 to spring 2014. (The events of ‘Carousel pt 1 &2’ takes place during spring 2011, to clear that up.) Mostly, it follows two different arcs: Gaara and Neji’s arc between 2010 and 2012, and a current one, taking place in 2014. Within these arcs the events take place mostly in chronological order. 
> 
> Sorry again for any inconvenience. That said, consider this a new-year’s gift from me to all of you. I hope that 2018 will bring you good conversation, scrumptious wine and interesting enemies.

#### Autumn, 2010: The streets of Konoha. 

The dry leaves covered the streets like a multi-coloured carpet of crimson, gold and orange. The children laughed as they played on the side-walk, adults smiled as they passed them and everywhere a warm September sun left the world shimmering with joy and beauty.

Gaara loathed days like this, when you could almost hear the soft jingle of angelic bells ring in the wind and strangers greeted one another in the street for no apparent reason. They were false; as fake and untruthful as a stepmother’s smile. He preferred cloudy, grey days when the wind had teeth and the sky was a menacing threat to every dweller below it. Those days were when the world showed its true colours; a hateful, spiteful, cruel beast waiting to devour every good thing in your life.

_‘No’_ , he corrected himself, _‘not to destroy the good things… to expose their true nature. To show you that they were evil all along.’_

He kicked a rock on the sidewalk and watched it soar into the bushes at the side of the road. Life was monstrous. He burrowed further into his roomy, red hoodie and glowered at passers-by from under the crimson strands of his fringe, while he headed once more towards a room built of meaningless questions and no answers.

_‘One hour’_ , he told himself. One hour, and then he would be free for another moment in time and he would go meet Sasuke at Otogakure. Sasuke. At least there was one thing in his life that was not entirely evil. Two, counting coffee.

He reached his destination, a well-polished door of oak with a shiny plate on it. His fists clenched in the pockets of his jeans. As always, he allowed himself one deep breath of free air before entering and scaling the stairs to the second floor. He knew the way by heart since a long time ago, but it didn’t make it any easier to go there. The ditzy secretary greeted him the way all plastic figurines tended to do: with a toothy smile and dead eyes. As was his custom, he tried to make his answering look venomous enough to kill her. As was her custom, she stayed annoyingly alive.

He walked right into the office. He had learned early on that by being approximately four minutes late he could avoid waiting in that suffocating room outside, and yet not get chewed out for being late. It also enabled him to spend four less minutes of the hour inside the obnoxiously welcoming aura of the office. 

As he entered, however, there was a break in routine. The ask-don’t-help idiot wasn’t alone. Another man stood with his back to him, talking with the old bugger who had been an unwelcome part of Gaara’s life for the past few years.

“Ah,” said doctor-I-don’t-know-shit, turning to address the newcomer, “Gaara. You’re here.” The redhead rolled his eyes.

“Really?” He drawled. “I hadn’t noticed. It must come as a surprise, seeing as how we have an appointment.” The old man furrowed his brow, as he was prone to do every time Gaara made a perfectly reasonable argument.

“I told you some time ago that I am retiring,” he said, ignoring the comment and once again proving his unfailing skill at saying unnecessary things, “I’d like you to meet my successor.” He gestured to the unknown man; who, Gaara realised, must have turned to face him at some point during his verbal exchange with the geezer.

He was young, in his twenties most likely, and the redhead could tell he was the type who’d be popular with women –tall and handsome with long, silky auburn hair and creamy, flawless skin. He looked like an absolute prick.  
“This”, Doctor Redundant continued, “is Hyuuga Neji.” Hyuuga Neji extended a hand towards Gaara.

“Pleased to meet you, Gaara,” he said. His voice was a melodious and rich. Gaara stared at him in silence, making no move to grab the hand presented to him. After a while it returned to its master’s side, untouched. The old coot cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I was hoping the two of you would be able to get acquainted today, to ease the transition,” he told his disinterested audience. Gaara kept his stare fixed on the younger of the two. He didn’t like this. In fact, he disliked it even more than he disliked the room, or the old moron. He looked into the eyes of Hyuuga Neji, eyes that were an odd, lilac colour, and decided that he would rather listen to Sasuke whine about Itachi for twelve hours straight than talk to this man for a minute. Hyuuga Neji was opening his mouth to say something when Gaara interrupted him:

“I tried to shoot myself last night.” He deadpanned, staring into purplish eyes all the while. A strange sort of tension entered the room. “But I missed and hit three kittens instead.”

He didn’t have to get acquainted with Hyuuga Neji that day.

* * *

#### Winter, 2013: The streets of Konoha. 

The streets were lined with snow and coloured lights and Christmas cheer, and laughter and excitement and all thing lovely in the world. Naruto beamed as two kids rushed past him, caught up in trying to pelt one another with balls of snow. He held at the very least twenty shopping bags in each hand, of this he was certain, and though his arms felt heavy his mood lightened the load considerably. Wrestling the array of plastic bags, he shouldered open the door to the homely café where he was meeting Sakura, Tenten and Ino. He spotted them easily –that shade of pink was hard to miss –and made his way over by way of pure will as his bags kept getting stuck in people and furniture. 

“Hi guys!” He greeted energetically when he reached them. He was met with sweet smiles and happy ‘hello’s while he tried to fit all of his things and his –in his opinion –quite considerable self into the remaining space in the booth.

“Have you bought a build-it-yourself pony, Naruto?” Ino questioned disbelievingly, eyes on the fruits of his store-hopping labour. He laughed good-naturedly.

“They’re presents,” he explained easily.

“For all of Konoha?” Tenten wondered with a teasing smile. Naruto rolled his eyes.

“Those,” he pointed at a stack of carriers, “are for my family. And those,” he indicated another, “for you guys and our other friends.” Ino’s eyebrows climbed towards her hairline.

“And the remaining thirty-something?” She asked. Naruto looked at her in disbelief.

“They’re for S’uke, of course,” he told her, wondering silently how she hadn’t figured that out herself. Sakura exploded into laughter.

“You really are the ideal boyfriend,” she told him, her eyes twinkling with mirth, “how many presents does Sasuke normally give you?” Looking at her, Naruto couldn’t bring himself to get even a little insulted. It was nearly Christmas, after all, and life was wonderful. In only two weeks he would get to spend the holidays making gingerbread houses and candy with Sasuke, and curling up with Sasuke on the couch in front of the fire, and walk with Sasuke through the snow under the stars, and kiss Sasuke by the river, and see Sasuke wearing that red scarf over his ears, and sleep in with Sasuke and…

“Earth to Naruto!” Ino called, waving a hand in front of his eyes, “I swear I’ll slap that goofy grin off your face.” Naruto, doing nothing to rid his face of what he knew perfectly well was a goofy grin, shrugged at Sakura.

“I have Sasuke, why would I need presents?” He asked her. Ino made a noise as if she was about to hurl. The other girls laughed.

“You sicken me!” The blonde told him imperiously, “besides, we’re not here to discuss what a sappy boyfriend Naruto is, are we?” Her tablemates sobered up slightly.

“Quite right.” Tenten agreed. Naruto nodded.

“So-”, Sakura began, fishing a notepad and pencil from the vast and unknown corners of her purse, “the hen-do.”

“Hold it!” Ino exclaimed, raising both hands, palms-forward, in a gesture of… well, ‘hold it’, “Naruto can’t hear this.” The male blinked innocently at her. “Besides, first I have a serious question.” She fixed Naruto with a searching stare. “You’re not wearing orange to the wedding, are you?” The blond man let his body collapse in a defeated sigh. 

“I’m not allowed,” he admitted, thinking forlornly of his orange suit, never to be worn…

“Wow,” Sakura looked slightly impressed, “I must admit I’m surprised Kiba has thought that far ahead.” Naruto gave her a look.

“Kiba doesn’t even know what _he’s_ going to wear,” he told her, “Sasuke is the one who forbade me from wearing…,” he searched his memory for the exact words, “anything orange, brightly coloured, garish, too-big, too-small, too-formal or informal, top-hats, funny socks, sneakers, spinning bow-tie or anything with a print. I’m also forbidden from colouring my hair.”

“Well, thank god for Sasuke”, Ino declared. Sakura sighed.

“Now can we get on with everything that needs doing?” she asked, tucking a stand of pink hair behind one ear. “We need to book a weekend for the hen-do and stag night. And make a list of individual responsibilities-”

“Yours would be keeping Kiba from panicking,” Tenten told Naruto across the table.

“Great,” the man complained, “stick me with the hardest part, why don’t you?”

“You’re the best man!” Ino reprimanded.

“Well, I didn’t get a choice, did I?” Naruto argued. “I would’ve much more preferred being the maid of honour; Hinata’s cool as a cat about all this!”

Tenten collapsed into a fit of giggles as Naruto and Ino engaged in one of their customary verbal battles, accompanied by the noise of Sakura scribbling down things to do with practiced efficiency.

* * *

#### Autumn, 2010: The Geezer’s old office. 

Gaara stared at Hyuuga across the desk. Hyuuga stared back.

“How was your week?” Hyuuga asked.

Silence.

“Are you doing well with your studies?”

Silence.

It had been over a month since Hyuuga took over his sessions, and he had refused to utter a single word to the man during all that time. He secretly relished in making the man increasingly more frustrated with his lack of cooperation. Every week, the Hyuuga would ask questions and he would ignore them entirely. Every week, the Hyuuga would have a new approach to making him talk and he would make sure it was a futile effort. He would lie if he said he didn’t enjoy the power that came with it, but mostly, he just hated the man and wanted him to suffer, however small that suffering was. Across the polished surface of the table the Hyuuga narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

“Gaara,” he said in careful voice, “it’s been five weeks and we’ve made no progress whatsoever.” The redhead stayed silent. “I am faced with no choice but to conclude that this is not working; you obviously do not wish to speak with me.”

_‘No shit, Sherlock,’_ Gaara though drily.

“As such, I have decided that my only remaining course of action is to contact your father and explain the situation to him.”

Gaara felt a surge of panic and nausea slam into him. With iron will, he pushed it down. Desperation took hold of him; he needed to avert this – _now_.

“Admitting defeat?” He asked casually. Hyuuga raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.

“This is not a game, Gaara.” He replied.

“Of course it is”, the redhead countered, “everything is a game.”

“Everything?” Hyuuga prodded. Gaara decided to oblige him; he needed to keep disaster at bay, after all.

“Life, loss, love, leisure,” he elaborated, “lies, loathing, looking, leaving, listening, loneliness, longing, lessons, laughter,” he paused, “leprechauns,” he added for good measure. “Everything is a game, and every game has winners and losers.” Hyuuga watched him intently.

“And you, are you the master of this ‘game’?” he questioned. Gaara snorted.

“If I was, do you really think I would be forced to sit here and watch your ugly face every week?” he retorted.

“Who is the master of the game?” Hyuuga inquired. Gaara shrugged.

“I know you’re trying to make a forest of the stick I just threw you,” he told the other man, “but it’s not exactly a new concept. It’s not my own construction, thinking of the world as a game, it’s existed for a long time.”

“In this game,” Hyuuga said, gathering himself for a new assault, “how do you win?”

“You don’t,” Gaara replied.

“Then why play?” Hyuuga questioned softly.

“In this instance,” Gaara answered, “because I have no choice.”

“We always have a choice, Gaara.” Hyuuga told him. Gaara smiled wryly.

“Not about this,” he said, “we all have to play.”

“I don’t play,” Hyuuga confided calmly. Gaara smirked at him.

“Hyuuga Neji,” he stated, “son of Hyuuga Hisashi, deceased, nephew of Hyuuga Hiashi, head of the Hyuuga clan. Prodigy. All your life you’ve been proving yourself to your family, mastering the ability to manoeuvre flawlessly in your world and rise above your birth right. You’re telling me that you, _you_ , don’t play any games?” Hyuuga stiffened.

“You have researched me,” he concluded. Gaara cocked his head to the side.

“Only a fool would face his enemies unprepared,” he commented easily.

“I’m not your enemy, Gaara,” Hyuuga said seriously.

“Of course you are,” the redhead stated offhandedly. Hyuuga watched him with sharp, lilac eyes.

“Is everyone your enemy?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Gaara shot back.

“Who are your enemies?” Hyuuga queried. 

Gaara didn’t reply.

“Do you have any allies?” the older man tried.

“Yes.”

“Who are they?” 

Gaara, once more, refused to answer. Hyuuga sighed quietly.

“How do you differentiate between an ally and an enemy?” he asked, obviously too stubborn for his own good.

“An ally”, Gaara explained, “is someone who would crush an enemy if given the opportunity.”

“You think your allies would crush me?” Hyuuga inquired softly.

“No.” Gaara let his face transform into an evil grin. “I know they will.”

* * *

#### Spring, 2012: Palace Hotel: the home of stuffy functions

His fist barraged into Hyuuga Neji’s face with a satisfying crunch.

“Sasuke!” His mother exclaimed somewhere to the right, but he paid her no heed. Instead, he stared down at the figure on the floor with loathing. Someone was holding him back from throwing himself at the brunet –Naruto, he knew somewhere in the rational part of his brain –but he wasn’t rational right now: his ears were ringing, his blood boiled white hot in his veins. He wanted to _hurt_ the older man like he had never wanted to hurt anyone in his life.

“You cocksucking son of a cunt motherfucker,” he spat, “I’m going to bury you with your own cock shoved down your throat you-,” strong arms forcefully lifted his trashing body from the floor and away from the object of his hatred. People were murmuring in scandalized voices around him. He didn’t care. 

“ **Hyuuga**!” He screeched as he was bodily dragged away from the scene.

* * *

Neji carefully dabbed at his broken nose with a soaked handkerchief. That had been… unexpected. He had never thought Uchiha Sasuke capable of losing his mind that badly.

There was a soft ‘clink’ as an ice-pack was placed on the sink in front of him. He looked up into the mirror and saw Uchiha Itachi’s reflection standing next to him in the otherwise deserted bathroom.

“My apologies for my brother,” Itachi said pleasantly, “it was a most ungraceful act.” Neji shot him an unimpressed look.

_‘Ungraceful, indeed.’_

“Still,” Itachi continued pleasantly, “One can’t help but wonder what would have my Otouto in such a… frenzy.” He fixed Neji with his unnerving gaze –he had always felt an unnatural amount of fear in the face of Uchiha Itachi. 

“Considering that he seems to be on good terms with that bundle of idiocy he calls a boyfriend,” Itachi pushed on, as if musing aloud, “that leaves only one other person my brother would protect so fiercely… someone who recently left the continent quite abruptly.” 

Neji swallowed dryly. Trust the older Uchiha brother to pick up three pieces of a 500-piece jigsaw and still figure out the main gist of the picture.

_‘Fucking prodigy.’_

“Let me make this perfectly clear,” Itachi said, leaning into Neji’s personal space, “at the moment I have no hard facts. If I were to acquire those hard facts however…,” the Uchiha trailed off, his dark eyes looking like pools of dead ice, “I really hope you are not the sort of spectacular stupid who would mess with someone under my protection, Hyuuga.” Itachi stepped back, once again his normal, aloof self. “You really should see a doctor about that,” he said pleasantly, and left.

As the door closed Neji fell back against the sink, breathing heavily through his mouth.

* * *

#### Autumn, 2010: The Uchiha Residence.

Gaara walked right in through the front door, as was his custom. Many years of friendship and the fact that nowadays Sasuke was more or less the only inhabitant of the house made knocking entirely unnecessary. Removing his shoes, he felt the unpleasant weight in his chest loosen slightly, his shoulders relaxing and his breathing evening out. The Uchiha home had been his safehouse for a very long time.

Feeling marginally better, he walked into the kitchen to find his best friend engrossed in what looked like a biography about Margaret Thatcher, eyes scanning the page in front of him whilst his right hand tried to simultaneously guide a sandwich into his open mouth.

When Gaara entered he looked up and, fast as a flash, got to his feet; snack and book left behind on the table. He crossed the kitchen and halted in front of the redhead, eyes wide with worry as they fixed on the red mark spreading across Gaara’s face.

It had been a long time since his father last hit him, so long that he had managed to suppress the empty feeling of powerlessness and despair it caused. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was that had put his father in such a rage, though through the raving and threats he had been able to decipher enough to understand the gist of it. His father had talked to Hyuuga who, apparently, had led him to believe that Gaara had been telling lies about him to the psychologist.

Faced with Sasuke’s concerned black eyes, he felt the full brunt of the incident slamming into him. It had been so sudden; he had walked into the house entirely unprepared for what he was about to encounter.

And then he was enveloped in warm arms. Gaara normally despised physical contact with other people, but Sasuke had always been an exception. The younger Uchiha was normally as averse to touchy-feely behaviour as Gaara was, but he seemed to have a sixth sense for when the redhead needed it; needed to feel that he wasn’t repulsive and unwanted and evil. Gaara felt himself relax entirely into the embrace, a sense of belonging chasing away the worst of the shock. Sasuke released him, gave him a long look –as if to make sure he wasn’t going to break –and shuffled over to the fridge.

“Soda?” he asked, opening the door and peering into the chilled space. Gaara tried to smirk, but it felt weak.

“Got anything stronger?” He inquired. Sasuke straightened and turned to face him. The Uchiha’s lips twitched into a dry smile.

“That could certainly be arranged,” his best friend replied, and Gaara smiled.

* * *

#### Autumn, 2010: The office that must not be named. 

Gaara was shaking with pure rage by the time they had both settled into their chairs. Hyuuga looked as unfazed as ever, as if there had been nothing of note going on during the past week.

“Did you get into a fight?” Hyuuga asked, gesturing to the mark on Gaara’s face; now a nasty blend of purple, green and yellow. The teen refused to reply, he couldn’t; his teeth were clenched painfully to keep himself from lunging at the psychologist. Hyuuga sighed.

“Gaara, don’t do this,” he said tiredly, “don’t undo the progress we have been making.” Gaara lost it. Red flashed before his eyes, the unfairness of the situation sawing at his bones and obstructing his airways with every breath. He couldn’t stand to stay in this room, with this man, for another moment. He had to get out. Out. He couldn’t breathe. Fast as striking viper he flew from his chair, channelling the overwhelming emotions in his body into one single point of business: making sure Hyuuga Neji knew how much he loathed him. 

“ _I’m_ undoing the progress?” he growled. Hyuuga looked startled by his sudden outburst.

“Gaara, calm down…,” he tried, “I’m not the enemy.”

“Do you remember,” Gaara began, violence colouring every word, “how I define my allies?” Hyuuga nodded slowly.

“They are people who would crush your enemies,” he replied.

“So then,” Gaara hissed, “what should I call someone who helps my enemies to crush _me_?” Hyuuga looked visibly alarmed.

“I-,” he began, but the sentenced faded into nothing as Gaara spun around and marched towards the door. He stopped himself, one hand clutching the knob, and took a deep breath. The fiery rage was storming over the walls of his mind and changing into something else; a cold, icy wrath. He turned and fixed his eyes on Hyuuga’s lilac ones.

“My father made sure I received your message,” his voice was quiet and even, and he let his hand reach up to indicate his face: “along with one of his own.” Without another word, he opened the door and all but bolted from the office.

* * *

He didn’t know where to go. The rage was still battering against his ribcage, but it was stilling with every passing moment, he was out of breath from running and still he couldn’t be more than a block or two from the office. He didn’t want to go home and spend the day remembering every reason why it really wasn’t a home, and Sasuke was still in school. Gaara texted him anyway. 

The energy went out of him like air from a balloon and he collapsed on a bench on the sidewalk. He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at the decomposing leaves in the gutter, but he knew the moment he wasn’t alone anymore.

He had never seen Hyuuga look as dishevelled as now; out of breath, his clothes a bit rumpled and his hair slightly ruffled as if he had been running.

_‘Running –ha! Walking briskly more like. Can’t see that prick ever looking undignified,’_ he groused internally.

“It was never my intention to cause this,” said the pompous prick. Gaara pretended not to hear him, glaring instead at a puddle of water on the asphalt to his left. “Your father called and demanded to know what we talked about in our sessions,” Hyuuga continued, “he claimed that it was his right as your legal guardian.”

_‘Figures,’_ Gaara thought bitterly to himself, _‘he can’t bring himself to call me his son even when it would suit his goals.’_

“I told him that everything that goes on in my office is confidential,” the psychologist pressed on, “but he refused to accept and demanded I tell him what was…,” he trailed off, as if deliberating what to say next, or whether to continue, “…what was wrong with your psyche.” He finished finally, sounding as if saying the words made him feel faintly ill.

Gaara stayed silent. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“I told him that the problem does not lie with _you_ ,” Hyuuga persisted, “but in all likelihood with surrounding psychosocial factors such as upbringing.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll admit I lost my temper, and saying that was highly unprofessional and wrong of me.”

The puddle quivered slightly as a leaf landed in it. Gaara glared at the leaf as Hyuuga sat down next to him on the bench, his gaze fixed on the redhead.

“I’m sorry,” The older man told him, “I was stupid and rash, and I’m truly sorry. Will you accept my apology?” 

In the pocket of Gaara’s jeans, his phone awoke screaming. He fished it up. The name Sasuke flashed on the screen and he felt some tension leave his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he spoke evenly as he answered.

_“Where are you?”_ Sasuke’s anxious voice asked him through the receiver.

“In the city,” Gaara informed him.

_“I’ll come get you”_ , Sasuke stated, as if ‘the city’ was the name of a shop somewhere and not a rather substantial area of land.

“It’s ok,” Gaara assured him, “I’ll meet you at Orochimaru’s.”

_“Ok. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,”_ Sasuke told him. The redhead ended the call and rose from the bench. The older man imitated him, watching him closely.

“That was your ally,” he observed. Gaara rewarded him with an unimpressed glance and started walking towards the bus-stop. 

He had made it a few steps when Hyuuga’s voice rang out behind him:

“Gaara,” the redhead turned to face him, “will you give me a chance to make this up to you?” Gaara gave him a long look.

“See you next week.” He said at last.

* * *

#### Spring, 2014: Kiba’s Kitchen. 

“Are you absolutely sure Gaara is coming?” Kiba asked him for the umpteenth time. Naruto rolled his eyes and fished a heavenly cold beer from his best friend’s fridge.

“For the last time: yes!” He replied. “Are you going to tell me _why_ you’re so set on having the tiny menace at your stag night?” He walked over to the drawers, dug out an opener and popped off the capsule. Downing a deep gulp of golden bliss, he relaxed against the kitchen counter. 

“Huh?” Kiba wondered from over by the kitchen table, where he stood pouring over some documents which looked frighteningly formal.

“Oi!” Naruto hollered, making the brunet straighten up in alarm.

“Wha-?”

“I’m talking to you,” Naruto informed him, more amused than annoyed.

“Oh, yeah, sure… uh… you were sayin’?” Kiba asked, mimicking Naruto’s earlier move and getting himself a beer. The blond waited patiently until his friend was done and sitting firmly on a bar-stool by the counter, ready to listen attentively. 

“Why do you want Gaara at your stag night?” He repeated calmly, he was fairly used to Kiba spazzing out by now, “the two of you weren’t exactly close.”

“Oh…,” the brunet said, scratching the back of his head, “well, him and Sasuke are close and I just thought It’d be nice to…” Naruto gave him an even look.

“As touching as the thought of you going out of your way to make sure my boyfriend has a good time is,” he argued smoothly, “I don’t buy for a second that you would be this nervous about him showing up if that was the case.”  
Kiba looked a little embarrassed.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Sasuke,” he muttered, avoiding eye-contact.

“Kiba…,” Naruto’s tone warned him to get to the point.

“All right!” Kiba exclaimed, taking a deep swig of his beer and then slamming it down on the counter. “You want the truth?” He asked, meeting Naruto’s gaze. “I want him there because Hinata forced me to invite Neji. There!” He finished with a flourish of his bottle. Naruto blinked at him.

“But… why would that make you want Gaara there?” He wondered, confused. “Wouldn’t that just make the mess thrice as big?” Kiba shook his head.

“That is where you’re wrong, my friend,” he stated sagely, “having Gaara there might cause a greater mess, but it will be entirely theirs to handle.” Naruto furrowed his brows in thought.

“I still don’t get it,” he declared after a moment.

“Well,” Kiba replied, “if Gaara is there, Neji will be too busy to spend the night torturing me.” Naruto blinked owlishly at him.

“That’s…,” he started, “…I’m not sure if that’s brilliant or insane, actually.” Kiba nodded.

“With the best plans, you never are”, he said wisely. Naruto hummed.

“Hang on,” he said, furrowing his brow, “have you told Sasuke that Neji’s gonna be there?”

“Uh…,” Kiba declared, looking decidedly shifty.

“Kiba.” Naruto rumbled.

“Alright! Fine, I’ll tell him. Just…,” the brunet sighed, looking up at the ceiling, “just let me do it in my own time ok?” Naruto took another swig from his bottle.

“Ok,” he agreed. Kiba looked relieved.

“Thanks, man.”

They both downed another gulp of beer.

“Is Neji really that much of a problem, though?” Naruto inquired. His best friend glared at him.

“Say you and Sasuke are getting married,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” Naruto nodded.

“And you’re having a stag night… or well, two separate stag nights, one each.” Kiba went on. 

“Yeah.”

“And Sasuke tells you that because he wants the two of you to _bond_ ,” Kiba made a face like he’d bitten into a lemon, “you have to invite Itachi to yours.” Naruto stared at him in wide-eyed horror. Relentlessly, Kiba persisted: “Now, this isn’t the Itachi you know today, is it?” He told a frozen Naruto, “it’s Itachi after you’ve declared your intent to bind his little brother to you for the rest of your lives.”

Silence.

Shakily, Naruto lifted his bottle to his lips and downed three huge swallows.

“I see your point,” he acquiesced.

“I had a feeling you would.” Kiba said knowingly.

“I still feel a little sorry for Neji and Gaara, though,” Naruto admitted, “Not that I ever thought I’d say that sentence…,” he added disbelievingly. Kiba shrugged.

“Sometimes casualties are a necessity,” the brunet declared.

“Now who’s spending too much time with Sasuke?” Naruto commented with a teasing grin.

“Shut it,” Kiba groused, “what ever happened to those two anyway?” He wondered.

“Who?”

“Gaara and Neji,” the brunet clarified, “why did they break up? All I know is that Sasuke lost his shit completely,” Kiba smiled, a dreamy look manifesting in his features, “if I could count how many family dinners I’ve gotten through by replaying the memory of Sasuke’s fist meeting Neji’s face…” Naruto snorted.

“I’ll be sure to relay that sentiment,” he laughed, “as for Gaara and Neji… I only know parts of it.” Kiba perked up, focusing on the blond once more.

“Tell me,” he demanded. Naruto rolled his eyes at him; Kiba could be worse than a teenage girl when it came to gossip.

“Like I said, I don’t know all the details,” Naruto told him, gaze drifting to the side as he tried to remember, “you know that girl Neji hung around with at functions and stuff that winter? What’s-her-face with the pretty eyes and shapely breasts?” he questioned. Kiba sniggered.

“Is that how you described her to Sasuke?” He asked. Naruto gave him a wry smile.

“It wasn’t my most intelligent moment,” he acknowledged. Kiba let out a barking laugh.

“How did you get out of that one?” He chuckled.

“I didn’t,” Naruto sighed, “I had to live through two weeks of Sasuke getting me all hot and bothered only to leave me hanging and telling me that if I wanted to get off I could fantasize about the pretty eyes and shapely breasts,” he admitted sadly whilst Kiba hooted with mirth. “In the end I had to give up one of the standing arguments to get out of it.” His best friend calmed down and gave him an odd look.

“Standing arguments?” he repeated. Naruto grinned evilly at him.

“Oh, you’ll be finding out all about those soon enough,” he cackled, “they’re a part of life when you live together.”

“What are they?” Kiba asked apprehensively.

“Practical stuff mostly, things that you can’t seem to find a compromise for.” Naruto elaborated.

“Like?”

“Well,” the blonde said, enjoying watching his friend squirm, “like: I want an orange sofa, and Sasuke don’t; or Sasuke wants you to put the toilet roll on that ridiculous holder on the wall; or I want a cabinet only for ramen and Sasuke wants a whole shelf in the fridge for vegetables; or I wanted to put a minibar in the corner by the telly and Sasuke wanted another bookshelf.” He shrugged. “Standing arguments that doesn’t end until one gives up.” Kiba stared at him.

“Dude,” he said, “the toilet roll is always on that silly holder at your place.”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t have a cabinet for ramen.”

“No.”

“You have two shelves for vegetables in your fridge.”

“Yeah.”

“Your sofa is black.”

“Uh-huh.”

“There is no minibar.”

“Nope.”

“There’s a bookshelf.”

“Mm-hm.”

Kiba looked repulsed.

“How did he do that?” he asked. Naruto smiled sadly at him.

“It’s a system,” he confided.

“System?”

“Like Pavlov’s dogs,” Naruto commented thoughtfully, “whenever I _didn’t_ put the damn roll on the stupid holder I would get an icy glare and whenever I _did_ I would get a kiss.” He tapped his fingers on the counter, caught in contemplation. “The day I cleaned out that second shelf in the fridge, Sasuke actually did me on the kitchen floor.”

“Ew,” Kiba grimaced, “TMI.” Naruto smirked at him.

“So you see, you’d better get used to the idea of stashing half of your video-collection away because ‘there’s no room for it in the living room’,” he gleefully informed the brunet. Kiba looked hesitant.

“She’ll control me with sex?”

“Yes.” Naruto replied gravely.

There was a silence, then:

“My _doggy style_ poster will never make it onto another wall, will it?” Kiba sighed dejectedly.

“Not a chance, my man, not a chance.” Naruto replied, sipping his beer. His best friend sat quietly, staring at his own stubby fingers, clutched around his bottle. 

“Wait,” the brunet said suddenly.

“Hm?”

“So what about Neji and what’s-her-face?” He asked eagerly, leaning forward on the counter.

“Oh,” Naruto said, having completely forgot their previous subject, “well, they were engaged.”

“What?!” Kiba gaped at him.

“Yeah. That’s what Gaara told Sasuke at least; that Neji had told him he was going to marry her.” Naruto shrugged.

“What’s-her-face?” Kiba questioned.

“Yeah,” Naruto clarified, “though like I said, who knows? I bet there’s more to the story.”

They lapsed into silence once more. 

“You know,” Kiba said contemplatively a few minutes later, “I hadn’t thought about it before but...” Naruto gave him a wondering look. 

“But what?”

“…But they were quite shapely, weren’t they?”

* * *

#### Summer, 2011: A spot of grass in a park. 

A warm breeze swept through the greenery and became a gentle caress against his skin, beside him Sasuke sighed contently at the sensation. They lay on a pillow of bright green, surrounded by birdsong and the smell of summer blossoms. Far off in the distance children were playing and people were laughing and conversing.

It was one of the rare days where he had Sasuke to himself. What was once an ordinary occurrence had become less frequent ever since earlier that spring, when Sasuke stumbled across the blond tornado of joy that was Uzumaki Naruto. Gaara was glad that his best friend had found someone who made him happy, content even, but it had its downsides.

As his thoughts lingered on the merry couple he felt a familiar twang in his chest. He would never deny his friend anything, but parts of him –the parts that longed for the comfort of normalcy –had always been a little envious of Sasuke. He had his problems to be sure; Gaara wouldn’t wish the loneliness of workaholic parents or the terror that was Uchiha Itachi on anyone, but everything just seemed to _work_ for Sasuke. Almost like the universe was paving the road ahead of him.

_‘Must be a perk of being born Uchiha,’_ Gaara grumbled in his head.

Sasuke had all the right components, somehow: stellar grades, a clean record, unearthly looks, plenty of friends, parents who –despite their absence –loved him unconditionally; and Gaara knew that however bad he was at showing it, Itachi adored his little brother more than anything else in the world. He just had issues expressing himself. Gaara almost laughed at the thought of Itachi acting out his real feelings towards his otouto; cooing and fretting over his every move and knitting him sweaters.

Still, fact remained that Sasuke had a very smooth ride in life, and the only thing he had truly been missing –in Gaara’s not very expertly opinion –was a partner who worshipped the ground he walked on.  
Cue Naruto.

It was almost like the higher powers had looked down onto earth and said to one another: “hang on, is that Uchiha Sasuke lacking something? This must be immediately rectified!” And in skids a boyfriend on a silver platter with a football in one hand and his heart in the other.

Unfortunately, Sasuke was also the only person Gaara could never hate, or even dislike for any longer period of time. If it weren’t for him, the redhead probably wouldn’t even be alive, and even if he was, he’d probably be inhuman. Sasuke was Gaara’s reminder that someone out there could accept and love him regardless of what he was; he was the one rock in a sea of uncertainty. Thus, Gaara could never actually bring himself to wish that Sasuke was a little less fortunate; he could, however, grumble pettily in his head from time to time. It was getting harder to be happy for him, though, when it felt like he was moving forward towards a bright new future and Gaara was still treading water.

“Gaara?” Sasuke murmured from his left.

“Hm?” The redhead replied sleepily, pushing the traitorous thoughts away.

“Why Neji?”

Gaara opened his eyes, suddenly alert.

“What do you mean?” he questioned. Sasuke had met Neji on a handful of occasions, though never in his role as Gaara’s lover. Uzumaki and friends shared some ties with two members of the Hyuuga clan, after all, and it was inevitable that his best friend would bump into the man sooner or later. From what Gaara had gathered, the two were less than impressed with one another.

“Well,” Sasuke said pensively, “why did you choose him? What makes him so special?” Gaara contemplated the question.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly, “why Naruto?” Sasuke was quiet for a while.

“Because he makes me feel safe,” he answered finally, “and happy. And…,” the Uchiha paused, “…he makes me excited about the future.” Gaara hummed.

“Neji-,” he began, but broke off to mull over what he was about to say. Neji didn’t make him feel any of those things. Still… “Neji makes me feel real.” He tasted the words as they left his mouth; they felt right; true.

“You are real,” Sasuke pointed out. Gaara felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“But Neji makes me _feel_ real. Like I have a real place; a purpose.” He stared at a cloud overhead; it was so white it looked pristine. “He makes me feel like I have the power to change, to control, to… affect the world around me.” He felt Sasuke’s hand come up to rest on his arm.

“You always had that power, Gaara.”

* * *

#### Winter, 2010: The office of questions. 

“I’d like to talk to you about your fighting”, Neji told him.

“You already have,” Gaara replied dryly, “more than once.”

“I’d like to discuss it again.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Neji said calmly, “you always give me exactly the right answers.” Gaara gave him a long look. 

“What?” He questioned, feeling unexplainably unsettled.

“You’re an intelligent person, Gaara,” Neji elaborated, “and you know exactly what society wants you to say, so you say it. But if I’m to be able to help you, you have to give me _your_ answers, not the _right_ ones.” The redhead glared at him.

“Are you accusing me of lying?” Gaara inquired icily. Neji shook his head.

“No. But despite talking a lot you leave large parts of your life completely uncharted in this room. You speak of your family, but not how they make you feel. You speak of everyday things and activities, but not about what you like to do, or who with. Whatever people you consider your allies; you do not speak of them.” Gaara felt exposed and uncomfortable. During all his years in therapy he had never spoken a word about Sasuke, it wouldn’t feel right. Their friendship was no one else’s business.

“I’ve talked plenty about my life,” he countered.

“What are you doing after this session today?” Neji shot back, calling his bluff. He was meeting up with Sasuke at Orochimaru’s, but there was no way in this hell or the next that he would tell Neji that.

“I’m going home,” he said, letting his voice become a bit strained, as if by withheld emotion, “alone. And then I’ll be doing _nothing_ alone, and maybe if I’m feeling adventurous I’ll take a walk – _alone_.” He averted his eyes for a moment. When he looked back, Neji looked entirely undeceived. The older man simply nodded without comment, as if his little story was unworthy of his recognition.

“Let’s talk about the last fight you got into. The boy you put in a hospital.” The brunet said instead.

“What about him?” Gaara grumbled.

“What did he do to provoke you?” Neji wondered, leaning forward to signal how attentive he was. Gaara almost rolled his eyes at him.

“We’ve talked about this. He didn’t do anything.” He said in a bored voice. “He just bumped in to me and I lost it; it wasn’t the first time. I’ve had lots of similar fights, this one just ended badly. And I regret it.” Neji looked very sceptical at that. Gaara couldn’t blame him; he didn’t regret a single punch he had dealt out that day. 

“I don’t believe that you would lose your temper that badly without cause.” Neji pushed. Gaara gritted his teeth.

“My father had yelled at me that morning,” he admitted, “my siblings were passive as usual. I was pissed. He got in the way. It could have been anyone.” A sliver of truth always coloured a story in the right shades, Gaara had found.

“What did your father yell at you about?” Neji questioned. Gaara went cold.

_“You monstrous brat! I wish you had never been born! Wasn’t it enough to take her away? Wasn’t it?”_

“I don’t remember,” he answered coolly, “something insignificant, no doubt.” The brunet levelled him with a long stare.

“And the other boy, he didn’t do anything to make you angry at him? Didn’t say or do anything?” he probed.

_“Get away from me you freak!”_

_“Ew! He touched you! Watch it so you don’t catch insanity, Hiro.”_

_“He’s such a nutcase. I don’t get why they’d even let him into this school. All he does is ruin things.”_

_“My mum says he’s bad to the bone. Not a sane cell in his body she says.”_

_“Oi, you hear that, freak?! You don’t belong in this school!”_

_“Yeah, and you touch me again and I’ll have you arrested! You **monster**.” _

“No,” Gaara replied dully, “he just bumped into me, nothing more.”

* * *

#### April 25th, 2014: The Hyuuga Mountain Cabin. Time: 16:13.

“Everything set?” Kiba asked as he entered the kitchen.

“Aye, capt’n”, Naruto replied, saluting the groom-to-be. 

“Great!” The brunet grinned. “Shall we get started on the brew while we wait for the others?”

Naruto laughed heartily and opened the fridge to reveal an outrageous amount of liquid courage, neatly tucked into every nook of the, honestly quite large, space. He fished two cans from the bottom shelf and tossed one to his best friend.

“This will be a weekend to remember”, Kiba promised as he opened the container and downed a large swallow. Naruto couldn’t help but agree. Of course, he had a completely different set of reasons in mind than did his best friend. What was a stag night without surprises, after all? Like he could let a once rambunctious youth like Kiba spend his final weekend as an unmarried man stuck in a cabin! No, the real plans took off first thing in the morning. He grinned victoriously; by the end of this weekend every man in the city would want him for their best man. He was just that good.

Kiba shot him a suspicious look.

“What are you up to?” he asked warily. Naruto shook his head.

“Nothing, just looking forward to tonight”, he answered.

“Will Gaara make it?” Kiba questioned, once more proving that his store of Gaara-related inquiries was entirely bottomless.

“Yeah, yeah,” Naruto waved his hand in Kiba’s direction, “Sasuke’s picking him up at the airport and they’ll come straight here. Don’t worry.”

“Good,” Kiba smiled, apparently satisfied. Naruto sent him a calculating look from the corner of his eye.

“Are you really all right with this?” He asked. “Who knows what amount of mayhem those two will cause.”

“As long as they don’t do it in my general vicinity,” Kiba shrugged and downed another mouthful of beer. Naruto eyebrows shot up in a mixture of astonishment and disbelief.

“Wow. Dial back on the sugary care-bear attitude,” he drawled pointedly. The brunet sighed.

“Look, it’s not my problem. Besides, I’m getting really tired of having to watch Neji mope around like an adolescent girl whilst Sasuke shoots him death glares.” He scratched his ear absent-mindedly. “If tossing them together in a cabin without cell-reception for a weekend is what it takes for them to get their facts straight, so be it.” Naruto’s frown cracked up into a grin.

“Aw”, he cooed, “that’s the kind of sweet stuff that made Hinata fall in love with you, man.” Kiba threw a bag of chips at his head.

“Lay off with the creepy comments, dude. I’m to be a married man, you know.”

* * *

#### December, 2010: The office of lies

“Have you considered going back to school?” Neji asked him. Gaara stared at the man with ill-concealed doubt.

“I am in school,” he answered guardedly.

“I mean ordinary school,” Neji clarified, “with other people your age.” The redhead pursed his lips.

“Why would I want to do that?” he questioned.

“A chance to spend time with peers,” Neji explained, “and a more routinely living. I think it could do you a lot of good.”

“Well I don’t,” Gaara bit back. Neji’s lilac eyes fixed on him, serious and unrelenting.

“Don’t you want a chance at a more normal situation? School could prove to be a respite from your home; an opportunity to create new bonds, find new goals.” Neji’s words were delivered entirely without hesitations, and Gaara could tell that he had been constructing the arguments beforehand. This idea was likely something the older man had been considering for a while.

“Are you telling me to aim towards normalcy?” Gaara drawled. “What of that usual nonsense about special snowflakes and following your dreams?” Neji shook his head.

“There is nothing wrong with leading a normal life, Gaara. In fact, it would bring you closer to being able to ‘follow your dreams’,” he argued, unrelenting.

“Well, perhaps I prefer being extraordinary,” Gaara concluded smugly. Neji sighed tiredly, letting two fingers come up to massage the bridge of his nose. Gaara stiffened at the act; he had seen it many times before, executed by adults and authority figures in his life when he wasn’t cooperating. For some reason, however, it felt awful this time, seeing Neji do it. For a moment, it even made him want to climb over his angry fears and resentment and agree to go back to school. For a moment.

“Don’t you want to spend time with people your age, Gaara?” Neji asked wearily, “make friends and memories; maybe even get a girlfriend?”

For the life of him, Gaara couldn’t explain the rage he felt at those words. He had heard similar things before, had even told them to himself at times. But hearing Neji say it made it sound terrible in entirely new ways. It made him feel small and flawed and… non-existent. Before he could process these new feelings, he had flown out of his chair and slammed his palms onto the desk. Simmering with ire he leaned over, so that their eyes levelled with one another, faces only a decimetre or so apart.

“Well sorry for not fitting into the pre-ordered pattern,” he hissed. Neji, quickly recovering from the unexpected move simply gazed back at him.

“Sit down Gaara,” he told the teen. The redhead didn’t budge.

“Why not make another note in my file? Surely you have some fitting psycho-analysis explanation for this behaviour?” he pressed on aggressively. “Maybe I’m suffering from delusions, or I’m bipolar. Maybe I have an Oedipus complex?” He sneered. 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” Neji told him calmly.

“Well,” Gaara countered, fast as a flash, “I guess that explains why I’m forced to come here every week, doesn’t it?”

“It’s obvious that I’ve brought up a sensitive issue, Gaara,” Neji circled his argument, “if you would sit down we could talk about it.”

“And what sensitive subject would that be?” The redhead asked him. “Do you even know?”

“I will know if you tell me,” Neji said simply. Gaara felt trapped. Still caught up in a whirl of unwanted emotions and met with no reaction whatsoever. He wanted to shake Neji until that immaculate façade of his shattered, wanted to make _him_ feel caught off guard.

In a vicious moment of impulse, he reached over and grabbed the collar of Neji’s dress shirt in his fist. 

“Maybe I don’t want to go back to school,” he said, his voice unhurried and articulate, “maybe I have no interest in making friends with my ‘peers’.” Slowly, he cocked his head to the side and let a sly smirk spread across his features. “Maybe I don’t want a _girl_ friend.” He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice to a tone barely above a whisper: “Maybe I want a _man_ friend.” With deliberation, he let his breath ghost across Neji’s lips before releasing the man’s shirt and straightening himself. “We’re done for today,” he declared with a smug smirk. Then, he turned on his heel and left.

* * *

#### April 25th, 2014: Sasuke’s Car. Time: 18:34. 

Sasuke hadn’t realized how much he had missed his best friend until he stood in the waiting hall of Konoha airport, his hands clutched in Gaara’s shirt and his face buried in his neck; breathing deep to catch the scent that he had spent two years without. Some part of him had been vaguely aware that to an outsider they probably looked like a couple, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to care. Gaara smelled like home.

Now, as he pulled out from the airport parking lot, he found that the initial burst of affection at seeing his oldest friend faded into the more complex emotions of the real world. Two years. Two years of phone calls and emails, but never a visit, and quite frankly, never a candid moment. As Gaara put physical distance between them, he had also invoked an emotional one, and that had hit Sasuke harder than him running away to Europe. He was trying to figure out how to communicate this properly -communications not being his forte, to be honest -when Gaara sighed. It was the sort of heavy, tired sigh that people let out when they are about to face something which is as tedious as it is necessary.

“Well,” the redhead started, turning his gaze on Sasuke, “I’m guessing you have something to say?”

Sasuke glanced at him. He _did_ have something to say. A lot, actually. He stared ahead, at the hundreds of cars ahead of him on the motorway, while a thousand different questions bounced around in his head, begging to be chosen.

“Why?” he finally managed to press out, although in a voice so quiet it almost didn’t carry over to the passenger seat. Gaara sighed again, closing his eyes.

“Because…,” he fell silent a good while, “because I needed to become my own master.”

Sasuke narrowed his eyes.

“So, what are you saying?” He snapped. “That all these years, I’ve been a hindrance to you? Stopping you from… from whatever ‘being your own master’ means?” Goddamn, he could feel the tears starting to crawl up his throat. Of course Gaara had to be the spectacular exception to his no-crying-in-front-of-people-(unless-it’s-Naruto)-rule.

“What?” Gaara sounded genuinely confused. “No, that’s why I needed to get away from… him.” He faltered a little, as if contemplating whether to say his name or not. It sent a jolt of empathy through Sasuke. He hated seeing Gaara -strong, self-sufficient, indestructible Gaara -hesitate to utter someone’s _name_. Still, he had spent the last two years being understanding and empathetic, and he was fed up with it. He took a deep, calming breath. It smelled like home. 

“I wasn’t asking why you left Konoha,” he said softly, “I was asking why you shut me out.” He swallowed thickly, willing the prickling in his throat to go back to where it came from -the dark recesses of unresolved issues he kept firmly locked away like any Uchiha worthy of their name would. Gaara was quiet for a long time. He too seemed to be swallowing more than normally necessary.

“Because I’m fucked up,” he said at last, his voice slightly higher pitched than usual, “and I couldn’t handle the idea that you might hate me too, if you knew just how fucked up.” Sasuke whole-heartedly gave up on fighting back the tears, blinking furiously to try and keep his view of the road clear while they rolled down his cheeks. He took the next exit and steered them into a gas-station parking lot, his fingers clenched around the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. When they finally stopped he reached over to pull his best friend into their second hug of the day. It quickly became obvious that seat-belts and parallel chairs wasn’t the best conditions for an embrace; it became sort of wonky and a little painful, but it didn’t matter. His best friend had come home, and Sasuke couldn’t help thinking that somehow, it felt like ‘home’ was finally whole again.


	2. The Office of Hyuuga Neji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> Warning: M for mature.
> 
> Please note: In this story they do not practise the use of condoms. Thankfully, they are fictional characters and so need not worry about sexually transmitted diseases, you, little children, do have to worry. So please practice safe sex. Additionally, prepping is also good. And foreplay... ... Just, don't try what you read here at home is what I'm saying.
> 
> A/N: Sorry for the delay. My classwork has really punched me in the gut this semester. Anyhow, here it is: part II.
> 
> Further, some scenes in this chapter mirror those in the NaruSasu prequel to this story. (Mainly the last few flashback scenes). The gist of what you need to know is this: Back in 2011, Sasuke was dating Naruto, but had not yet told his friends (barring Gaara), which creates an unfortunate situation when Sasuke's friends and Naruto's group decide to meet at the May festival, which Sakura is sort of hoping will lead to a date with Naruto.
> 
> That said, on with the story!

#### January, 2011: Konoha's streets.

It was the sort of dreary winter day that you always seem to forget about during summertime; a grey and soggy mess promising wet socks and cold ears. Gaara made his way through the slush, his shoulders pulled high, hands in his pockets and a miserable, whiny voice in his head going on and on about the unfairness of it all.

The voice was complaining about Neji. For the past two weeks, the older man had acted completely indifferent, as if the redhead's outburst had never happened. It wasn't fair; it was as if Gaara had no effect on the Hyuuga no matter what he did; like he was entirely powerless. He didn't like it.

What he liked even less, however, was that he cared enough to not like it.

He turned the corner and the psychologist's office came into view, making his mood darken even further. For a moment, he considered just turning around, leaving the infuriating brunet to sit around on his own for an hour whilst Gaara did something actually worthwhile.

With a disgruntled growl, he put that thought to rest and steeled himself for yet another vexing encounter.

* * *

"How have you been?" Neji asked as if he actually gave a damn. Which, Gaara was convinced, he didn't.

"Lethargic," he drawled at the older man. Neji's lilac eyes pierced into him.

"Lethargic?" He prodded.

"Lethargic," Gaara repeated.

"Gaara," Neji's tone made the redhead gnash his teeth; he sounded _disappointed_ , "I'm-," the brunet fell abruptly silent, as if someone had slapped him. Too bad nobody had. Neji's gaze darted across Gaara's features, his expression one of intense thought. Finally, he started over:

"Gaara," this time his voice was much softer; Gaara didn't like that either, "What's wrong?" The redhead felt like a wildfire had been let loose in his chest.

"I thought you said there was 'nothing wrong' with me," he snapped back, eyes blazing. Neji seemed unperturbed.

"I did not ask what was wrong with you, I asked what was wrong," he reiterated. Gaara narrowed his eyes.

"And I told _you_ ," he replied, "I'm _lethargic_." For a moment, he swore he could see Neji's mask break, a myriad of emotions washing over that usually stoic face, and then they were gone.

"How does being lethargic feel?" He queried. Gaara stared at him, trying to think up an answer which would be equal parts frustrating and offensive. What ended up escaping him was the truth.

"Like I don't exist."

Neji, eyes steady, leaned forward, reached out, and clasped Gaara's hand. The redhead sat perfectly still, feeling the warmth of the other man's hand on his, feeling lost. Then:

"Also, it feels like I want to acquire an illegal firearm."

Neji retracted his hand, sighing.

"We both know that is not true," he claimed. Gaara raised one eyebrow, mimicking his best friend's signature 'you don't know me or what I'm capable of'-face. To his surprise, it worked; Neji sat up straight, eyes narrowing slightly. It didn't seem in any way voluntary or deliberate, more like a knee-jerk reaction.

_'Interesting.'_

As an experiment, he carefully altered his posture: back straight, shoulders relaxed, legs uncrossed, and chin slightly tilted up. He finished it off by letting his eyelids lower halfway and altering his expression from Sasuke's 'you don't know me'-raised eyebrow to Itachi's 'your disobedience is of no consequence, peasant'-raised eyebrow. The effect was immediate -and entertaining. Neji's eyes widened into a look of contained dislike, his fingers twitching ever so slightly on the desk. Gaara smirked at him. That seemed to be enough to shake him out of it, since he returned to his usual, composed posture, though his eyes still peered at Gaara with only half-veiled suspicion.

It felt like victory. Gaara relaxed back into his normal position, a sharp smile on his face.

 _'Well, well, well,'_ he mused, _'You just make enemies everywhere, don't you, Itachi?'_

Meanwhile, Neji seemed to have collected himself enough to continue his endless barrage of questions.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?" Gaara replied, probably looking like the smug bastard he felt like.

"You know what," Neji told him, a hint of iron in his voice.

 _'Looks like playtime's over.'_ Gaara shrugged.

"I felt like testing something," he admitted.

"What?"

"You know what," he countered, relishing the karmic justice.

"Why?" Neji pressed on. Gaara paused. Why had he done it? It wasn't just to test whether Neji knew Itachi, although that bit of information would surely come in handy, nor was it just to rattle him. Gaara contemplated it for a bit.

"How do you see me?" He asked at last. Neji looked taken aback by the question. Understandable, since Gaara was slightly taken aback himself. He never willingly gave other people an opportunity to define or judge him, Sasuke excluded -though Sasuke generally didn't subject him to labelling anyway.

"How do you mean?" Neji wondered, completely side-stepping the question.

"I mean," Gaara clarified, "when you look at me, what kind of person do you see?" Neji looked as serious as the redhead had ever seen him.

"I see an intelligent, strong-willed and impressively self-sufficient young man, who in order to survive in a hostile environment has created a harsh set of rules and views to live by." Gaara clenched his jaw. The words hurt more than they should. But he had asked for them, and he wasn't about to start complaining about receiving what he had demanded. Instead, he pushed down the chilly, dark mist of insufficiency and faced Neji's gaze.

"And how did you see me just now, when I did… that?" He questioned, tilting his head to the side. Neji hesitated.

"I saw…," he faltered, as if unsure whether to continue, "someone dangerous," he made as if to go on, but seemed to stop himself. Gaara tilted his chin up, like Itachi and Sasuke always did when they felt threatened.

"And that," he stated, "is why I did it."

* * *

#### April 25th, 2014: The Hyuuga Clan's Cabin.  
Time: 21:05

"Where _are_ they?" Kiba whispered frantically in his ear as he was manhandled into the kitchen. Naruto shook off his best friend's claw-like grip and stepped away to look at him properly whilst the door swung shut behind them.

Kiba was about two beers and one piece of bad news away from a breakdown. His eyes -slightly unfocused thanks to the eight or so drinks he had already consumed -reminded Naruto of a picture he saw once of a rabbit about to be shot. And hadn't _that_ exhibition been a swell way to spend a Saturday, Sasuke.

"Calm down," he told the brunet in a surprisingly convincing way, holding up his hands, "they're probably just running late. Maybe they stopped to eat or something?" A more likely scenario was that they had consumed a few galleons of coffee and had to stop at every gas-station along the way to use the bathroom, but whatever. Kiba stared at him, hands shaking slightly, a glimmer of hope re-entering his eyes.

"You think so?" Naruto nodded sagely, though to be honest he wasn't sure. Sasuke and Gaara was supposed to be there more than an hour ago, and had yet to appear. He had actually walked down to the main road -quite the long walk, he grumbled to himself - just so he could get reception to check his phone. There had been no messages, and when he tried to call it went straight to voicemail. Kiba closed his eyes and took a deep breath and then headed to the fridge, probably to diminish their supply of alcohol even further.

In the living-room next door the party was in full swing, with all their friends -and Neji -in differing levels of inebriation, but most -not Neji -jolly and ready for the party of their lives. Or so Naruto liked to imagine anyway, and the muffled voices certainly sounded cheerful. His own good spirits were somewhat dampened by the absence of a certain Uchiha, however, and by the increasingly irrational groom, who did not enjoy being the enter of Neji's attention one bit.

He snapped out of his musings in time to watch Kiba try to open the door using his hip, since his arms were occupied by what seemed to be a year's worth of hangovers.

 _'Hurry up and get here, S'uke,'_ he pleaded internally, before heading over to steady Kiba's wobbling tower of bottles before something truly devastating happened.

* * *

#### January, 2011: The office that no one want to watch on TV.

"I've thought about what you said," Gaara declared. Neji gave him an inquisitive look.

"What part?"

"About getting a girlfriend," Gaara clarified, leaning back in his chair. Neji's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline.

"Really?" Gaara blinked at him.

"Well, I'm not getting a _girl_ friend, obviously," he amended. Neji nodded slowly.

"That's great, Gaara," he praised.

 _'Figures therapy would be the one place where teenagers are encouraged to have sex.'_ Of course, whether he was still considered a teenager was debatable, now that his 18th birthday had come and gone.

"Do you have someone special in mind?" Neji inquired. Gaara frowned. Did he? He wasn't even entirely sure why he had brought it up. Especially since he had no intention of going out into the world and finding himself a nice wholesome boy to share frappuccinos with, or whatever couples were supposed to do. He settled for:

"No." Which put a quick end to that conversation.

* * *

#### April 25th, 2014: Sasuke's Car.  
Time: 19:11

It had taken them a good twenty minutes to calm down enough for Sasuke to be able to drive again, which was a very long time for two people who were the textbook definition of 'intimacy issues'. Back on the road, there was a sense of exhausted contentment between them which required no words. Still, the silence had to be broken at some point, and that point was when Sasuke took the exit leading into Konoha.

"I thought the cabin was in the mountains?" Gaara remarked.

"It is," Sasuke replied, making another turn towards their old neighbourhood. Gaara, apparently not feeling charitable enough to actually ask _'so why are we here?'_ , gave him an annoyed look, which he ignored.

"Sasuke."

"We're not going to the stag-do," Sasuke admitted begrudgingly. Gaara's thin eyebrows climbed up towards his hairline.

"Why not?"

"Because," Sasuke grumbled, "the groom and the best man are idiots." Gaara stared at him.

"I'm not disagreeing with that statement," he replied carefully, "but I _did_ come here because I was invited, and last I heard you had a bit of a… soft spot for the best man."

"Yeah," Sasuke quipped, "but not a blind one."

"Well that's debatable."

"Hyuuga is going." Gaara's head turned in Sasuke's direction so fast the Uchiha was sure he'd hear a _crack_. There was a beat of silence, then:

"I'm assuming you're not talking about the bride-to-be?" Sasuke simply shook his head in answer, sighing.

"I don't know what they were thinking," he lamented, "they probably have some insane and clearly unspecific plan." Gaara stared the glove compartment.

"They didn't tell you, did they?" He ventured.

"Hn."

"And they thought you wouldn't figure it out?"

"Hn," Sasuke grunted again, the ire he had been feeling the past few days swimming up towards the surface of his mind. How Naruto even imagined that this little ploy _wouldn't_ end in disaster, he couldn't fathom; his boyfriend of _three years_ should be well aware that the moment he stepped into that cabin and saw Hyuuga would be the start of the worst fight in both of their lives. How _could_ he do something like that to Sasuke's _best friend_? He could feel the rage bubbling beneath his ribs, spreading out into his fingertips; making them _itch_ to punch something.

And then, Gaara laughed.

Sasuke sent him a disbelieving glance, but the redhead kept laughing, and somehow, it made Sasuke laugh too. He had forgotten about this. About having a friend who laughed in the most serious situations, simply because they were so fucked up. So they kept laughing at the fact that Naruto and Kiba had invited their least favourite person to the stag-do, and that those morons had thought they could keep it from him. They laughed at how terrible it would have been, had they walked into the cabin to find Gaara's ex in there, and by the time he pulled into a parking-space outside Otogakure, they were still chuckling about how much of an earful Naruto would get once he got home.

"So," Gaara was staring at the dashboard with a small smile playing in the corner of his mouth, "do you think it was a reconciliation plan?" Sasuke snorted.

"In that case, I doubt I would have been invited." Gaara gave him a questioning look, but he didn't ask. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the familiar building in front of them.

"So… coffee?" Sasuke nodded, but neither of them made to get out of the car. Not just yet. Instead they sat in silence, watching people enter and exit through the door they had pushed open so many times.

"Hey, Gaara?"

"Mm?" The redhead sounded sleepy. Or maybe just content.

"I punched Hyuuga in the face," Sasuke admitted. Gaara turned to look at him, and his aquamarine eyes seemed endless and unreadable.

"Of course you did."

* * *

#### February, 2011: The Rogue museum for modern art: "if you know what it's supposed to be- it's not worth seeing."

"Now this piece is from one of the most promising young artists in Konoha," declared the pretentious lady who was -apparently -the orchestrator of the show.

"Look at how the lines converge to create the illusion of entrapment," she went on, pointing to a haphazard collection of strings glued to a canvas, "the way this artist uses dimension truly conveys their motive -the individual's struggle against the norms of a euthanised society," she paused breathlessly, "Brilliant!" The crowd clapped, some of them nodding assuredly to their companions, as if to say 'yes, my thoughts precisely!'.

"This is absolute shit," Itachi mumbled into his ear, and Gaara had to bite back a snicker. They were at some fancy high-cultured exhibition named "Imagining the unimaginable", which should have served as warning enough, to be honest. One of the artists, Deidara, was a friend of Itachi's, however, and Gaara had been shanghaied to play the role of impressed youth around Deidara's sculptures, supposedly to impress the critics with his ability to reach the younger -apathetic -crowds.

Still, Gaara didn't really mind. He was one of very few people who actually knew Itachi and still enjoyed his company. In small doses anyway. He listened as the woman on the stage finished rambling about the selective domestic oppression of the unenlightened middle-class man, and finally managed to wrap up her introductory speech.

Freed from their roles as pretentious listeners, the crowd dispersed and started forming smaller groups of pretentious bull-shitters who floated from room to room like disabled sharks. Gaara was unceremoniously dragged into a room full of strange clay-sculptures, which he assumed to be Deidara's collection. Itachi found time to introduce him to the sculptor -a boisterous blond with an eclectic personality -before both the older men were whisked away by some socialite or other.

Being nothing if not a diligent worker, Gaara hung around for a good half hour, taking his time to study each piece in detail. To be honest, Deidara was a rather skilled artist, a lot better than the glued string guy anyway. Feeling he had honoured his end of the bargain, he drifted away to watch the rest of the exhibition; most of which was -as Itachi had put it -absolute shit.

He was trying his best not to laugh at a canvas with three red paint-splotches on it, titled "the abuse of power as seen through the eyes of a bird", when he heard his name being called by a familiar voice.

"Gaara?" The redhead turned around, and there he was, champagne-flute in hand, looking thoroughly confused and a bit wary.

"Neji," Gaara acknowledged.

"I-what are you doing here?" the Hyuuga asked, looking like he had just bumped into a camel in Siberia. Gaara didn't know whether to find it funny or infuriating.

"Appreciating the arts," he drawled, "what are _you_ doing here?" Neji made a strange noise, almost like a small laugh.

"Touché," he replied, smiling. Gaara stared. He had never seen Neji act quite this… freely.

"I'm here supporting a friend," the brunet explained, sipping his champagne. Gaara tilted his head to the left a little, thinking.

"Me too," he murmured eventually, "in a sense." Neji blinked, and then shook his head, as if to say: 'I'm not even going to ask'.

"Well, what do you think so far?" He asked instead. Gaara smirked.

"I quite like the one over in the corner," he confided, pointing at a nook over by the fire exit, "it has glitter on it." Neji looked amused.

"Indeed? And what does it portray?"

"The unending misery of mankind through the eyes of a pretentious art-student who was high on mushrooms at the time, allegedly," Gaara rattled off.

"Seriously?"

"I might have added the last part," the redhead admitted.

"I couldn't have guessed."

"My exact thoughts when I read the name of the piece."

Neji snorted. Somehow making him laugh made Gaara feel strangely accomplished.

"So," said Neji, smiling, "are you here alone?"

Gaara shook his head 'no'.

"With a friend?" Neji inquired. Gaara thought it over. Itachi was less 'friend' and more psychotic relative.

"Not exactly," was what he settled for. Neji's expression seemed to shift slightly at this, as if Gaara had given something away. Before the brunet had the chance to reply, however, Gaara's phone buzzed. Apparently, the critics had appeared, and it was time for him to act the desensitised teen who was awoken by the questionable motifs of Deidara's art.

"I have to go," he told Neji.

"Of course," the brunet smiled, "it was nice to see you Gaara."

"Likewise."

* * *

#### April 25th, 2014: They Hyuuga Clan's Cabin.  
Time: 22:35.

Unsurprisingly, Shikamaru was the one who finally started asking the real questions. More specifically, he ambled into the kitchen where Naruto and Kiba were once again in process of filling their hands, pockets and a plastic bag Naruto had found in the far recesses of the fridge with bottles, and -in an uncharacteristically alert voice -asked them:

"What have you managed to do now?" Kiba and Naruto both straightened up and, teetering slightly, turned to look at him.

"I… huh?" Kiba replied, unhelpfully. Shikamaru sighed.

"Look, I have nothing against Neji," he began. Naruto snorted.

 _'Well that would make one of you,'_ he thought. Neji assimilated to the group about as well a giraffe did to the arctic tundra.

"But," Shikamaru continued, sending the blond an unimpressed look, "I can't help noticing that a fair few of us didn't know he would be here, and since I _did_ know that Gaara was going to be here, I was a bit surprised." He paused, and Naruto vaguely concluded that Shikamaru probably wasn't part of the reason why they kept having to refill the beverages.

"Surprised?" Kiba asked, looking like Shikamaru had just recited a physics theorem. To be fair though, Kiba _was_ part of the reason they kept having to refill the beverages.

"Naruto," Shikamaru said, clearly deciding that the best man was the most likely to give him a sensible answer, "does Sasuke know that Neji is here?" Naruto gave him a confused look.

"Of course," he answered, glancing at Kiba for confirmation. The future groom looked…

_'Like that time he broke my PlayStation.'_

"Oh for _fuck's sake_ ," Naruto bit out, "you didn't tell him?" Kiba spun around to face him, a nervous smile on his face.

"I was… um… I was planning to," Kiba told him, clutching the beers he was holding closer to his chest. "It's just… every time I was going to, I got scared that maybe they wouldn't come if I told him and," the brunet rambled, whilst stepping back from an increasingly irate Naruto, "I was going to tell them _before_ they came in the house, I swear."

Naruto put a hand over his eyes in a desperate attempt not to clench it and clock Kiba in the chin. Here he had been worrying about Sasuke being in some sort of accident, calming himself with thoughts that Gaara's plane was probably delayed and Sasuke's phone was dead. Wondering if maybe he should call _Itachi_ to hear if he knew something.

"Sasuke _doesn't know_?" He bellowed, his hand slipping down to form a fist despite his attempts not to.

"Of course he knows," Shikamaru interjected, drawing both of their attention

"What?" Naruto felt a bit lopsided.

"They should have been here two hours ago," Shikamaru clarified, "clearly, they aren't coming, and _obviously_ that means that Sasuke knows."

* * *

#### February, 2011: The office of Hyuuga Neji, as seen through the eyes of a cranky, unsociable realist.

Gaara knew the moment he stepped through the door that something was off. Over the course of the past few months, Neji and him had built a sort of understanding. A mutual sense of respect, despite Gaara being a pest and Neji being persistently nosy. Today, however, Neji seemed more of a disappointed authority than Gaara had ever experienced before. He sat down, eyeing the brunet with a sense of dread.

"Good afternoon," Neji greeted him, but his voice was cold. Gaara nodded mutely.

An oppressive silence gripped the room, sticking onto every surface like a greyish phlegm. Neji sighed.

"Gaara," he started, his voice neutral, "I feel we need to speak about this Saturday." The redhead was confused, to say the least. Saturday was the exhibition, but nothing interesting had really happened there, had it? He shifted in his seat.

"When you said that you were considering finding a boyfriend," Neji pressed on, "you said that you did not have anyone in mind. Was that true?"

Gaara felt like there was something important that he was missing, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Why would his spontaneous comment about getting a boyfriend have anything to do with the exhibition? Unable to make sense of it, he fell back on an old, useful tactic: say nothing to avoid saying something stupid or potentially damaging.

"Gaara," Neji said gravely, "I want you to be completely honest with me," he paused, "are you involved with Uchiha Itachi?"

For a moment, Gaara thought he would have a laughing fit, but it passed quite quickly. The pieces started to arrange themselves in his head, though to him the evidence were far from as damning as Neji made them out to be. He leant back in his chair, observing Neji closely. What interested him wasn't why Neji would arrive at such a ridiculous conclusion, but why he would be so obviously perturbed by it.

"Would that be a problem?" He asked smoothly. Neji's eyes widened, apparently taking Gaara's words for affirmation. His expression tightened.

"Gaara, I don't know how you met him, but I can tell you with certainty that he is not a good man."

 _'You're telling me,'_ Gaara thought sardonically, _'The man is friends with my sister, and that is its own blaring warning sign.'_

"Your point?" He inquired. Neji's fingers twitched slightly.

"My point is that I-," he stopped abruptly, "that you should stay away from people like him." Gaara's eyebrows shot up.

"People like him?" Neji closed his eyes, clearly frustrated.

"Bad people," he explained.

"Why?" Gaara countered, just for the hell of it.

"Because," Neji shot back, "they will hurt you."

Gaara stared at him, shocked. This whole conversation had taken a turn he had never even imagined. In fact, this entire relationship had taken a turn somewhere along the way and he didn't quite know where they stood anymore.

How had that even happened anyway? One moment Neji was his enemy and all was right with the world, and the next he's making small talk with the man at exhibitions and feeling neglected when he wasn't noticed enough.

The whole world seemed to teeter. Incensed at feeling so unravelled, he reached for the one thing that always helped. Cold analytics. He closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts into neat patterns and then opened them again. It was surprisingly easy to take back the control he had lost a good while ago; the process of doing so had started the moment he stepped into the room. He looked over at Neji with cold eyes. Control was easy, he remembered, after all; he had learned to face his enemies a long time ago.

 _'Except,'_ the newly returned voice of reason in his mind stated, _'he's not your enemy, is he?'_ It wasn't the first time Gaara had wished he could punch the voices in his head. He sometimes thought of them as the Gaara to his Sasuke; infuriating, but mostly correct. He considered this new idea; but if Neji wasn't the enemy then what was he?

He reviewed his behaviour over the past months: outbursts, pining, moping around and a general lack of control over himself and his relations with Neji. It did seem to point in a certain direction.

 _'Though not one I'm fond of,'_ he muttered internally. Neji was looking straight at him still, waiting for some recognition that he had heard him. Gaara gathered up his wits. _'Time to see just how deep this rabbit-hole is.'_

"You seem pretty certain that Itachi would hurt me," he observed.

"I am," Neji replied tersely. Gaara tilted his head to the left.

"Is there some other reason I shouldn't be involved with him?" He queried. Neji paused for a moment.

"He's older than you."

"I'm eighteen."

"Still, there's a difference in maturity." Gaara's slowly, and deliberately, raised one eyebrow. Neji's eye twitched.

"And?"

"And," Neji's jaw clenched, "most importantly, Uchiha Itachi will use you and discard you without a second thought."

"So if it were someone else, it'd be fine?" Gaara asked slowly. Neji straightened.

"Of course."

"Like if I was dating Deidara, the sculptor from the exhibition?" He ventured, watching Neji like a hawk. Neji's expression wavered.

"Are you?" He asked harshly.

"Would that be a problem?" Gaara prodded. Neji furrowed his brow.

"He's also older than you," he began, but Gaara interrupted him:

"He's nineteen." Neji fell silent, looking like he was furiously trying to think of something.

"Here's what I'm hearing," Gaara drawled, "I'm not allowed to date Itachi, because he is a _bad man_ , and older than me, and I'm not allowed to date Deidara because…?" Neji shook his head.

"Of course you can date Deidara." He stated, unconvincingly.

"Mm," Gaara responded, feeling the adrenaline rush he always felt before the killing blow, "see, there's still one problem," he told the brunet, "your professional role does in no way give you any authority to decide who I do or do not date." He watched as that statement hit home, Neji's lilac eyes widening in surprise and then flickering down to his desk in thought, only to refocus on his when Gaara stood up from his seat.

"In fact, that you would even try to enforce that kind of judgement on my life suggests that you were acting in another capacity than that of a therapist," he continued languidly as he walked over to stand by the desk, "now tell me, Neji," he leaned down until they were eye to eye, faces only centimetres apart, "what sort of relationship would allow you a say in someone's love life?"

For a moment, they stared at one another, completely still. Up close, Neji's eyes were endless swirling pools of purplish blue. So carefully it felt like he was doing it in slow-motion; Gaara tilted his head to the side. Neji's hand came up, lightning fast, and grabbed onto his hair, a pair of lips met his -and then, all hell broke loose.

Somehow, Neji managed to pull Gaara across to his side of the desk, eliminating any space between them. Gaara dug his fingers into Neji's auburn hair and pulled him closer. Neji didn't seem to mind as he kissed the redhead over and over, pausing only to trail kisses and bites down his neck. Gaara wrapped his legs around the older man, his nails desperately gripping at his back.

It was desperate and unrefined; teeth clashing, hands gripping and pulling. At some point, Gaara lost his shirt, and Neji's was untucked and ripped open so the buttons scattered across the floor. He could feel Neji's warm hands fumbling to open his jeans, and somewhere in his mind he knew that he should probably stop to think about this, but he didn't want to. Right then, he was so hot and hard and desperate, and he craved it, _needed_ it. He freed one of his hands from where it had been gripping at Neji's silky hair, and relocated it to help unbutton his trousers.

Soon, there was nothing between them at all, and it felt _so good_. He could hear Neji's voice right by his ear, asking, and then his own voice, answering him: "yesyesyesyes". And then Neji was in him, and it was _glorious_ ; a mixture of pain and pleasure that made him bury his teeth in Neji's shoulder to stop from screaming out loud. It was fast and uncivilised; Neji finished first, closing his strong, warm hand around Gaara to bring him over the edge.

The aftermath was far less exciting. When Neji's eyes cleared for the first time since Gaara had stepped in through the door, there was an unbridled panic in them. He stepped back, staring wildly at the redhead, who calmly stooped down to pull his jeans back up. When he straightened, Neji had gotten dressed as well, though his shirt was beyond rescue, hanging open. Gaara watched as he gripped his head, staring unseeingly at the floor.

"Oh god what have I done what have I _done_ ," the words were rushed out, his voice small and helpless. For the first time, Gaara realised that Neji and Sasuke were actually quite similar. That thought brought with it a course of action; he knew how to handle Sasuke, so why not simply apply the same formula to Neji?

He walked over to the brunet, stepping over his shirt along the way, and gripped Neji's wrists firmly, staring into violet eyes.

"Calm down," he murmured, voice soft but determined. Neji's hands relaxed, and he let them fall down to hang by the brunet's side. Neji looked into his eyes, searching.

"Gaara," he whispered shakily, "I am so sorry." Gaara stared up at him, unimpressed, shook his head, and stepped in to wrap his arms around the taller man's torso.

Slowly, gently, Neji's arms closed around him, one hand creeping into Gaara's hair. They stood like that for some time, Gaara listening as Neji's breathing slowed down into a calm, regular hum. He stepped back, looking up into a far calmer pair of violet eyes.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he assured the brunet. Neji shook his head.

"But I did. As your therapist I am in a power position-"

Gaara snorted.

"Yeah, you were just oozing power and authority today, weren't you?" Neji narrowed his eyes.

"It's my fault that I let you take control like that-," he started. Gaara sighed.

"After all these months," he drawled, "I'd have thought you knew that taking that kind of responsibility for what happens with me is as pointless as it is conceited." Neji didn't look convinced.

"Listen," he said, trying to think of something that could assuage the older man, "I know that you like to think of me as a vulnerable victim," Neji's lips quirked upwards, telling Gaara that at least _that_ wasn't true, "but you should remember that I once got into a fight with Uchiha Itachi, and I won." Neji's eyes widened and he took a step back, ending their physical contact.

"Oh god," he whispered, "I completely forgot about…"

It took Gaara a few seconds to catch on to what he was talking about, and when he did, he felt the urge to slap himself.

"About that," he let his gaze fall down to stare at his fingernails, feeling a little guilty, "I'm not actually dating Itachi. Or Deidara." He heard clothes rustling as Neji shifted. He looked up to see that Neji looked wholly unsurprised. "You already knew," he accused. Neji smiled drily:

"I deduced as much," he paused, before conceding: "eventually." Gaara couldn't even muster up some irritation at that, he was mostly relieved at not having to spend half an hour convincing Neji that he wasn't in fact diddling his best friend's brother.

"Which begs the question," Neji continued, crossing his arms, "how _do_ you know him?" Gaara was momentarily distracted by Neji's flexing muscles, and came to realise that this whole sex thing might put a damper on his ordinarily sharp mind.

"How do _you_ know him?" He retorted. Neji looked thoroughly amused.

"The Uchihas and the Hyuugas are both part of the same social circles," he explained, as if Gaara didn't know that already, "If I'm lucky, I only run into him a few times a year, but even then… he rubs me the wrong way," Neji's eyes turned cold, "he likes playing with people."

"Mm," Gaara hummed in agreement, "he always was a bit of a psychopath."

"And you would know that because?" Neji implored. Gaara gave him a sharp smile.

"Remember that ally I have?"

"Oh please dear god," Neji said suspiciously, "tell me it's not him." Gaara laughed.

"No," he admitted, watching Neji relax, "it's his little brother." He watched as Neji's features morphed into surprised interest at that entirely new piece of information.

"And have you actually won a fight with him?" he asked.

"Several," Gaara affirmed, "though a lot of them were when we were kids." Neji watched him curiously.

"I don't think I have ever seen someone win a fight with Itachi," he mused, watching Gaara like he was some strange puzzle where none of the pieces where even slightly alike. Gaara shrugged.

"I told you, I'm not exactly brittle," he remarked dryly. Immediately, Neji became serious again. He stepped forward, and pulled Gaara into his chest, strong arms circling him. A soft kiss was placed on top of his head.

"Nevertheless," Neji murmured, "this can't happen again."

"Mm," Gaara hummed into his chest, "we'll see about that."

* * *

#### April 25th, 2014: The Hyuuga Clan's Cabin.  
Time: 22:38

"Alright, I need to get to Sasuke _now_ ," Naruto announced, glaring at Kiba, who at least had the decency to look contrite.

"Yeah… yeah of course," Kiba replied hurriedly, "You can take my car… only…", he faltered.

"Only _what_?" Naruto thundered.

"Only none of us can drive," Shikamaru explained.

"Yeah…", Kiba agreed, the bastard.

"Well then _fix it_ ," Naruto hissed at him. Kiba glanced around the kitchen, as if expecting the designated driver fairy to pop out of cupboard.

"How?" He asked, and normally Naruto would be placated by his best friend's demure tone, but not tonight. He levelled the brunet with an icy stare he had learned from Sasuke.

"You fuck it. You fix it." He growled.¨

* * *

Kiba looked like he was in a horror film, and not in the good part at the start where everyone is happily unaware of their imminent deaths. He glanced at Naruto, who had taken up post leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, glaring. Apparently, he looked sufficiently dangerous, because Kiba seemed to steel himself and, only slightly shivering, turned to face their little gathering.

"Uhm," he started, proving once more why he got a D in public speaking, "guys?"

The group fell silent.

"What's going on?" Sai inquired, his normally searching gaze now markedly unfocussed.

"Uhm," Kiba repeated, "well, uh, Naruto," he glanced at the blond again, "needs to get back to the city. So… is anyone sober enough to drive?"

Sai giggled. Shino, Lee and Chouji looked at the future groom with palpable confusion. Neji was making a convincing impersonation of Sasuke; one eyebrow raised.

"Oh," said Chouji, face suddenly morphing into one of understanding, "are you picking up Sasuke?" Kiba seemed stunned.

"Uh… yeah?" He replied. Shikamaru sighed from over by the sofa where he had been watching this train-wreck of a conversation unfold. Kiba eyes shifted to him for a moment.

"I mean," the brunet tried again, "Naruto needs to get into town to see Sasuke, like, right now. Because… well, it's complicated. Point is, are any of you sober?" He looked imploringly at them, obviously expecting the answer they all knew were coming: no, of course no one is sober; this is a stag-do you idiot.

"I am," a cool collected voice announced. Naruto's gaze flickered over to Neji. Seriously? Hyuuga fucking Neji would be the hero of the day? Kiba looked even more dumbfounded than Naruto felt, peering disbelievingly at Neji across the room.

"Really?" Kiba's face regained some colour for the first time since Shikamaru walked into the kitchen, probably at the prospect of taking out two frightening birds with one car. Feeling quite finished with Kiba's unimpressive negotiating skills, Naruto stepped forward.

"Could you take me into the city?" He asked, looking straight into Neji's eyes. Neji nodded:

"Certainly."

For the first time ever, Naruto entertained the thought that maybe, _maybe_ , Neji wasn't such a bad guy after all.

* * *

#### April, 2011: The house of horrors; Gaara's room.

The clock on the wall showed 03:43 AM and Gaara lay, sprawled out on his bedroom floor, fully dressed, staring at the ceiling. Things were complicated.

He had a nagging feeling that life hadn't always been this befuddling, but he couldn't quite remember how that felt. Instead, he kept getting stuck on things in his head.

The Adonis boyfriend that Sasuke had tripped over a few weeks back didn't seem to be this complicated.

 _'He also isn't Sasuke's therapist,'_ said his annoyingly rational inner voice.

 _'Shut up,'_ he told it, feeling spiteful.

Sadly, he was starting to realise himself that what he and Neji were doing was anything but healthy. They would carry on as usual, pretending to be perfectly average people, have their meetings where Neji badgered him about his feelings and Gaara maintained he didn't have any, and Gaara would meet with Sasuke, do his homework, avoid his father. And at the same time, he would knock on Neji's apartment-door at night and it would open to a completely different reality, where no one else even existed.

He would have been perfectly fine with that, barring Neji's moments of self-deprecation (something about ethics or whatever), except now, the secret world was bleeding into his real one. Or maybe it was the other way around?

Wherever he went, whatever he did, Neji seemed to be hovering right on the edges of his thoughts, like a persistent fly. He didn't mind daydreaming about sex -because honestly, who did? -but this was different. Secret Neji kept popping up at the most inconvenient times. He would be talking to Sasuke, a without a warning, Neji smiling down at him in bed would emerge on the big screen in his mind and render him positively useless.

Thankfully, Sasuke spent most of his time watching his own mind-theatre and hadn't really seemed to notice. Though Gaara suspected he had some inkling, but left it well alone like the champ of a best friend he was.

He sighed into the empty room.

 _'Ugh. Who is this moping loser?'_ he chided himself, _'enough of this.'_

With the willpower of a thousand Greek soldiers, he got up and found his phone.

 _You up?_ He typed in and pressed 'send'. After a few minutes his phone buzzed.

_No._

He smiled.

 _Can I come over?_ He replied.

A minute. His phone buzzed.

_If you must_

Feeling better already, he slipped the phone into his pocket and headed over to Sasuke's house. He let himself in, trusting that only Sasuke was home anyway, and sneaked up the familiar stairs and into his best friend's room. Sasuke glared at him through one, half-closed eye, the other part of his face buried in the pillow. Gaara sent him an apologetic look and tip-toed over to the dresser to pull out some spare pyjamas. A few minutes later, he lay burrowed down under the extra duvet, listening to Sasuke's rhythmic breathing. Gaara closed his eyes and, finally, felt sleep was within his reach.

* * *

#### April 25th, 2014: Neji's car.  
Time: 22:57.

"So, do you want to tell me what all of this is about?" Neji asked evenly, gaze still on the road in front of them. Naruto blamed the alcohol for realising only just at that moment who _exactly_ he was embarking on this adventure with. He stared ahead, mulling over his answer. He highly doubted that Neji would buy some half-baked excuse, the man was a prodigy after all. Telling the truth, however, might end with Naruto alone by the side of the road halfway up a mountain, which didn't really seem like a good option either.

"There was a… misunderstanding," was what he finally chose to say, "due to lacking communication-skills."

"A misunderstanding?" Neji queried, voice still calm and neutral.

"Yeah," Naruto affirmed. Mostly because he couldn't think of anything else to say. Neji was quiet for a while, and Naruto took the opportunity to focus on the road -or at least the small piece of it that the headlights were illuminating in an otherwise pitch-black world -in an attempt to quell his slight nausea.

"It must be some misunderstanding," Neji commented at last. Naruto sent him a look.

"Nothing major," he replied, convincing no one. Neji's lips quirked into what could as easily be a smirk as a smile.

"Major enough to make you leave your best friend's stag do," he noted, "and since I didn't see your car by the cabin, I can only assume that Sasuke has it, and that he could have easily driven up to see you." Naruto wanted to punch Neji's stupid face in, the way that Sasuke had done two years ago. Neji looked over at him, looking surprisingly considerate.

"Naruto," he said solemnly, "I will not force you to speak about it," he paused, "but, if you want to, I will listen."

Naruto didn't quite know to feel. He had always known Neji to be kind of a prick, and this entire evening was starting to make him question whether Neji was being possessed.

 _'Then again,'_ he mused, looking over at the brunet, _'he_ is _a psychologist.'_ That fact had been somewhat of a paradox to him over the years, but now he could -for the first time -see how the man and the profession went together.

 _'Well,'_ he thought, _'it's not like he won't figure it out anyway.'_

"Kiba were supposed to tell Sasuke that you were coming tonight, and he didn't," he explained, "so Sasuke is mad." Mad was probably understatement of the year, but 'Sasuke's going to kill me and dance on my corpse' sounded excessively dramatic.

"I do not understand," Neji told him, eyes still on the road, "I know Sasuke and I don't exactly get along, but this seems uncharacteristically melodramatic."

And that was it, really. There was no explaining this story without using all the pieces. Naruto steeled himself, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap.

"Kiba invited Gaara," he admitted.

The silence that followed was very different from the previous ones; colder, tenser and far less understanding.

"I see," Neji remarked eventually, his voice slightly strained. Naruto looked over at him. His face seemed less relaxed too.

"Look, Neji…", he started, "We should have told you." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry." Neji nodded stiffly.

"Sasuke was upset that you would try to lure his best friend there under false circumstances," he concluded. Naruto nodded.

"Just to make this clear," Neji said quietly, "we are driving to town to find Sasuke so you can make up," he looked over at Naruto, "and that means seeing… someone else as well."

Naruto didn't know how to answer that. That afternoon he had been feeling like the best person in the world. Now, he was starting to wonder whether he might be the worst.

* * *

#### May, 2011: Otogakure.

Gaara felt like he was walking around in a mist of sedatives; numb, incoherent and half-blind. He didn't remember leaving Neji's office yesterday, nor coming home. He just remembered Neji telling him that they should stop seeing each-other completely. In and out of the office. A clean cut straight through his defences.

He stared into his cup of coffee, wishing Sasuke would show up. Somehow, he knew, Sasuke would make it better. When his friend finally slid down onto the seat next to him, he had an inkling that _maybe_ , Sasuke's life wasn't all peaches and rainbows at the moment either. His friend looked desolate, lost and very small. Gaara didn't like it one bit.

"I haven't seen the two of you look like that for years," Orochimaru remarked, "it seems like two good stories untold." Gaara glanced up at him. Strangely, Orochimaru's presence comforted him. He was another ally, one Neji knew nothing about. He felt a pang of guilt, knowing that he had talked about Sasuke, something he swore he would never do in therapy. Glancing at this friend, he noted that it looked like Sasuke was over his head all on his own at the moment, no extra fuck-ups required.

"You first," he told his best friend, in a voice that sounded entirely unlike him.

It took some time, but Sasuke eventually managed to lay out his problems, the boyfriend and the friends, the lies and the misunderstandings, all built upon a foundation as old as Sasuke himself: self-doubt. Gaara had a hard time understanding how people could miss the fact that Sasuke was plagued by diminutive self-esteem, fear of failure and a firm belief that he was never good enough. Now, he saw old ghosts come alive again, as the shadow of Itachi tried to swallow his best friend into darkness. He firmly believed that Sasuke would emerge victorious from this particular battle, but it hurt to see him suffer nonetheless.

As Sasuke finished up his tale, Gaara downed a large swallow from his cup, and considered how distil the important points of his problem into a comprehensible narrative.

"About seven months ago," he started, "My psychologist retired, and his successor adopted my case." That was the beginning of it. Now all he needed was to convey a middle, and an end.

"Little more than three months ago," he went on, "I slept with him." Even telling the story, he felt numb.

"Continue," Orochimaru encouraged softly, refilling his cup. Gaara shrugged.

"These last few months he's been struggling with the patient-doctor dilemma or whatever and yesterday he… ended it," Gaara paused, it felt strange, saying it out loud, "He's relinquishing my case and said it's better if we never see each other again," he continued, "He's quite new, only 24 years old, and has a lot of reputation and stuff at stake…," he sipped his coffee, "only problem seems to be that I…," he faltered, glancing at Sasuke, trying to amass the courage to admit this final piece of the story -the one he hadn't even told himself, "…seem to have fallen in love with him."

Having finished his tale, he watched cautiously for Sasuke's reaction. He honestly didn't know what to expect; disapproval? Disgust? He caught snippets of raw emotion as they danced across Sasuke's features: sadness, he was sure he identified correctly. Soon, however, they melted away and, in their place, a singular, fully-formed emotion burst forth. Frozen fury solidified in Sasuke's dark eyes, a voiceless promise of painful death.

Gaara knew that look. It was the same one Sasuke had had when he stepped between Gaara and his father. Twelve years old, Sasuke had stared into the eyes of the Sabaku patriarch with icy rage in his features and a vow of vengeance on his tongue.

Those were the eyes he was looking into now; eyes that could make a strong man shiver, and a confident one surrender. To anyone else, that rage would be terrifying, but to Gaara, it was the most precious thing he had. Someone who would fight for him, no matter the consequences, no matter the circumstances, no matter the cost. Fight for him. That fiery rage was what had kept him warm through many cold and lonely nights, had lit up his road when he was lost.

Seeing it burn in Sasuke's eyes, just as clear and strong and unconditional as it had been six years ago, made him feel like himself again. Which was exactly why he told his best friend to do nothing. That fire reminded him that he was never alone in the dark, and it uncovered an old truth, one that had seen him through many worse things than this; an undisputable fact that he carried as both an armour and a sword:

_'My allies are better than yours.'_

Even as Orochimaru warned him to keep his options open, to not get fixated on revenge, he could still feel the fire burning in his chest, brighter by the minute.

_'My allies are better than yours.'_

_'My allies are better than yours.'_

_'My allies are better than yours, Hyuuga Neji.'_

* * *

#### April 25th, 2014: Otogakure.  
Time: 20:43.

"Shouldn't you check your phone?" Gaara asked him, taking a sip of his fourth cup of coffee. Sasuke raised an eyebrow.

"I turned it off," he replied offhandedly. The redhead looked amused.

"Isn't he going to worry?" he queried, his voice just this side of mocking. Naruto's worrying, emotional side had a tendency to befuddle Gaara, much like it had Sasuke initially. Sasuke shrugged.

"Worst case scenario, he spends the whole evening worrying that I got into an accident," he stated neutrally. Gaara raised his eyebrows, smirking.

"And best case?" He prodded.

"Best case scenario," Sasuke said, mimicking his best friend's smirk, "he gets so worried he calls Itachi." Gaara laughed.

"You really are royally pissed off, aren't you?" He commented, every bit as smug about it as Sasuke would want him to be.

"Considering how terrified he is of Itachi, I'd say somewhere between furious and caustic," Sasuke concluded, entirely unempathetic towards his boyfriend's plight.

"To be fair," Gaara said, not looking like he wanted to be fair at all, "Itachi probably has a bullet somewhere with Naruto's name engraved on it." Sasuke snorted.

"It wouldn't surprise me if Itachi has a weapon silo with 'the world' painted on the hatch in calligraphy," he retorted. Gaara gave him a look that was half exasperation and half amusement.

"Sasuke," he said evenly, "someday, someone is going to break one of your nails, and Itachi is going to nuke them. He is the most ridiculously over-protective brother I have ever met." Sasuke glared at him. If there was one thing he certainly _hadn't_ missed it was Gaara's incessant claims that Itachi doted on him, despite all the evidence that his brother was an arrogant, self-centred bastard.

 _'And besides,'_ Sasuke thought vehemently, _'I'm not the only focal point for Itachi's weird emotional displays.'_ He narrowed his eyes.

"Well at least Naruto doesn't leave the room every time Itachi comes in," _'though he does usually hover very close to me,'_ he added to himself. Gaara's brow furrowed.

"Who does?" He questioned. Sasuke teetered momentarily, wondering if he should just lie. Then again, Gaara would see through that faster than Shikamaru fell asleep in class.

"Hyuuga," he admitted, "ever since you left for Europe." Gaara considered this for a while.

"That's strange." He observed. Sasuke couldn't help but agree.

"I asked aniki about it," he told the redhead, "and all he would say was that Hyuuga was 'afraid of hard facts', whatever that means." Sasuke had actually spent a good amount of time trying to figure that out. Obviously, whatever his big brother had done scared Hyuuga far more than a fist to the face and a few death threats.

"Hm," Gaara voiced, looking out the window with unseeing eyes, "sounds like Itachi and I have a few things to discuss." Had Sasuke been a lesser man -or at least a man who didn't know the two as well -he would have shivered. Gaara and Itachi had always had a strange, and to Sasuke incomprehensible, relationship, based on some -to him -unknown understanding.

"Anyway," Sasuke said, deciding to steer away from the somewhat inflammatory topic of Hyuuga and Itachi, "Naruto will probably show up tomorrow when that lot is sober enough to drive." Gaara gave him a look that told Sasuke that this little segue had fooled no one.

"As long as Neji isn't with him," he shrugged. Sasuke smirked.

"That's only slightly more likely than him bringing Itachi along," he assured his friend, "Naruto would rather ride in a car with a rabid possum."

* * *

#### May, 2011: The May Festival.

Gaara ambled along behind the group, vaguely aware of the fact that Sasuke _still_ hadn't told his friends about Naruto. The past few days had been a study in Sasuke's exceptional ability to create chaos by irrationally fearing even the slightest moment of doubt or failure.

Whatever, that was Sasuke's mess, he had his own problems to deal with. Primarily, how to catch a Hyuuga. In the days since his and Sasuke's heart to heart at Otogakure, he had spent a great deal of time pondering what to do. In part, he wanted to exact horrendous vengeance upon the man who hurt him (feat. Uchiha Sasuke: murder-accomplice extraordinaire), however, he also found himself considering Orochimaru's advice. Was it possible for him to emerge from this having restored some sort of relationship with Neji?

Hence, why he was trotting along the celebratory streets of Konoha, glowering at random children as they ran past. True, he had agreed to come as moral support for Sasuke -because facing people who liked you was such a difficult experience, apparently -but he was hoping that something else might be resolved as well. He knew that Neji was going, so he might run into him. Though exactly what the plan was from there, he didn't know, but Gaara had always been an excellent improviser, as Itachi could attest to after the water-balloon-war of '03.

He wasn't paying much attention to Sasuke's group of friends, instead scanning the crowds, looking for that familiar head of hair. He _did,_ however, notice when the pink-haired one yelled out "Naruto!" like the blond was going out of style. He glanced at the group, quickly identifying that a) another group had appeared, including Sasuke's ridiculously good-looking boyfriend, b) Sasuke still hadn't told his friend's about said boyfriend, and c) this was about to get very uncomfortable, very soon.

Still searching the crowds, he could _feel_ Sasuke going into panic-mode next to him. He snorted into his fist. At any other point in time, this would have been prime-time entertainment for him. Even more so when Mr blond and bountiful swept down to bestow Sasuke with a ridiculously theatrical kiss. He couldn't stop an amused smile from surfacing as the voices behind him turned increasingly incredulous; this was hilarious. A flash of auburn hair quickly wiped that little subplot from his mind, however, as he finally laid eyes on the man he was here to see.

Neji was standing over by the lemonade stands, stooping down to talk to someone who was hidden by the crowds. Whoever it was left, and Neji straightened up. In a few moments, he would turn -the redhead was sure of it -and spot Gaara. Time seemed to slow down as his mind kicked into action. This moment was make or break, and he didn't really have much on hand to make sure it turned in his favour… except-

Without losing sight of his target, he reached out, finding Sasuke's arm exactly where he knew it would be, and spun his best friend around to face him. Sasuke looked slightly alarmed, but Gaara really didn't have time for that right now.

"Help me out for a sec'," he conveyed softly, before kissing him. When he pulled back, his ears were roaring with the adrenaline of victory. _'Take **that** , Hyuuga'_, he cheered triumphantly.

"Well," he declared smugly, "I'm off to buy some lemonade." He was already strolling towards Neji, when Sasuke apparently woke up.

"The hell you are!" The Uchiha barked at him. "Get. Back. Here. Now." From the sounds of it, he was pretty irate. Gaara turned to face him.

"All is fair…," he quoted to his best friend, hoping to relay the necessity for what was normally a not very nice thing to do. He turned to Sasuke's boyfriend, who seemed so torn between emotions he somehow managed to look constipated. Sensing that laughing would be quite unwise in this situation, he settled for a brief overview of the facts:

"It was a ruse," he explained, "no need to overreact."

Feeling like he had done quite enough, and anxious get on with it before Neji vanished, he turned and ambled away.

The more socially apt part of him confided that he probably _hadn't_ done enough and that Sasuke would be more than a little bit furious at him for it, but he ignored it. He had a battle to win.

With careful precision, he strolled towards the lemonade stand, decisively not looking at anyone. He knew that Neji had seen him, the only question was: would he take the bait? The answer became clear as he was paying for his lemonade, only to have a graceful, long-fingered hand reach past him to pay. Slowly, he lifted his gaze and found pools of purple fire boring into him. He smiled and tilted his head to the left. A muscle twitched in Neji's temple. He opened his mouth to greet the older man, but was interrupted.

"Not here."

And so, he was unceremoniously dragged, lemonade in hand, to a back alley behind some booths, where he stood, blinking up at what he was quickly realising was a rather angry Hyuuga Neji. He took a sip from his plastic cup, never breaking eye-contact.

"Well?" He prodded, tilting his head to the left. "What do you want?" He swore he could see Neji's whole face twitch.

"You-," Neji cut himself off, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath before opening them again. "Insufferable," he bit out.

That hurt. More than he'd like to admit. He let his gaze drop to the ground on his left.

"If you dragged me here to yell abuse at me-," he said, and then he couldn't talk anymore because he was being thoroughly kissed and hoisted up against the brick wall, his lemonade tossed aside. He wound his legs around that familiar waist, grinding his crotch into Neji's. the brunet groaned into his mouth, pushing closer.

Gaara was on fire. Every inch of his skin burning from Neji's touch, every part of him _craving_. Even if the police had showed up right then, he couldn't have stopped what he was doing.

" _Neji_ ," he whined, sounding every inch as desperate as he was. Neji _growled_. And if that wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever experienced-

"Fuck," the brunet rumbled, grinding into him, "you-," he stopped talking to bury his teeth in Gaara's neck. Gaara moaned, eyes falling shut, he _loved_ when Neji bit him. The brunet came back up and fixed him with a stare.

"You really are impossible," he breathed. Gaara smirked at him through half-lidded eyes and reached forward to cradle Neji's face in his hands, leaning in close so he could whisper in his ear:

"Then _punish me._ "

Neji went completely still, breathing heavily, and then Gaara was put down on the ground, wobbling slightly. He looked up into usually familiar eyes, now completely different.

"You have twenty seconds to get those jeans off," Neji informed him, "or they won't exist anymore." Gaara wasn't about to argue with that. Not right now, anyhow. In less than twenty seconds he was back against the wall, legs lifted high. He wove his hands into that lovely auburn hair and fixed Neji with his gaze.

"Please," he murmured, "just _fuck me_ already."

Neji obliged, thrusting into him as if they only had one shag left before Armageddon, all need and desperation. It was hard and fast and magnificent, and he couldn't get enough. Every thrust felt like it might bring him over the edge, every possessive growl made him clutch his lover tighter. He was vaguely aware that he was talking, babbling the same words on a loop _'faster…harder…please…Neji…please…faster'_.

When Neji came, he dug his teeth into Gaara's shoulder, and that was enough to push him over the edge. He collapsed against his lover, impressed that Neji could still carry his own weight, much less Gaara's.

"Shit," Neji mumbled in his ear, "so much for a clean break." Gaara giggled, lifting his head enough to peer into Neji's eyes.

"So what do you suggest?" He asked languidly. Neji mulled it over for a second.

"Well, firstly we get our clothes back on before we get arrested," he advised, "and then we get out of here, so I can fuck you in a proper bed, how does that sound?" Gaara smiled.

"Sounds perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, there we are. Just one chapter left. Now, I realise that the smut in this chapter is slightly less graphic than what I usually write *takes a moment to reevaluate the decisions I've made in my life* and that's mostly because it didn't feel right for the characters or the plot at this point to delve deep into smutville.
> 
> Also, I might make some changes/ fix things in this chapter since it's very late here and I'm sure some mistakes have slipped through, if you find any, please let me know.
> 
> That's all. The last chapter will be up as soon as I have the time and energy to proof it. Until then, please do let me know what you think.
> 
> Lot's o' love,
> 
> Bacchus

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Well, there’s the first chapter. Do comment and let me know your thoughts.
> 
> As with its predecessor, this story is already more or less finished and need only be beta’d, which I will do at earliest convenience. I hope to post with roughly 2-week intervals.
> 
> Until then;  
> Lots o’ love,  
> Bacchus


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